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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719491">Hard of Hearing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:14:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719491</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“But what do <i>you</i> want?” Noctis says.</p>
  <p>“Whatever you want,” Ignis says, perfectly sincere.</p>
  <p>And <i>this</i>—this is why Noctis is completely fucked.</p>
</blockquote><p>After Gladio lets slip a little-known fact about Ignis’s bedroom habits, Noct finds he can’t leave well enough alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous, FFXV Kinkmeme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Belated fill for the FFXV Kinkmeme. Finally moving this over to AO3, six months late. The prompt:</p><blockquote>
  <p>Ignis tells his partner(s) he's a top and they're more than happy to go along with it. Truth is that Ignis is so fucking ashamed of how much he loses control when he's bottoming (shaking, crying, cursing, begging, screaming) that he just pretends he doesn't much care for it. At some point, however, his partner(s) find out the truth, and they're determined to put this knowledge to good use.</p>
</blockquote><p>I’ve made some minor changes while editing, so if you prefer the original, it can be found <a href="https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5690.html?thread=10576186#cmt10576186">here</a>.</p><p>Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whole thing is Gladio’s fault.<br/><br/>They’re in the middle of a five-minute breather in the training hall when Gladio says, outta nowhere, “So, you and Iggy.”<br/><br/>Just four simple words, but they roll around in Noctis’s skull like an ominous rumble of thunder, setting off all the sirens in the back of his head. <em>Dammit.</em> To buy himself some time, he takes a long, casual draw from his water bottle. By the time it’s empty, he’s got his face back under control, and when he speaks, his voice is light and smooth. “Yeah?” he says and silently congratulates himself for playing it cool. <em>Nailed it.</em><br/><br/>But Gladio just gives him an intense, searching look, as if to say he can see right through his bullshit. Then, when Noctis just answers him with a flat stare (despite the sweat beading between his shoulder blades), he sighs through his nose and asks, “You two fucking?”<br/><br/>Noctis chokes. “Wha—?”<br/><br/>Gladio crosses his arms over his chest with a grim nod. “Yeah, thought so.”<br/><br/>“The hell—we’re not—I’m not—” Noctis sputters, but it’s too late; he can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks and down his throat. “It’s none of your business,” he says finally, crumpling the bottle in his hand. He chucks it at the nearest trash can, and it bounces off the edge, falling to the ground with a pathetic, hollow clatter.<br/><br/>“Uh-huh,” Gladio says, unfazed as Noctis stalks over to pick up the offending trash. He tosses it into the can with a vengeance. “Pretty sure your business <em>is</em> my business.”<br/><br/>“Buzz off.”<br/><br/>Gladio sighs again. “Look,” he says, voice shifting away from annoyed and unimpressed to something softer, “I ain’t gonna tell you guys to stop. Whatever I have to say, Iggy’ll have thought of it already. Just—” Gladio lets out another breath, long and hard. “Watch yourselves, all right?”<br/><br/>Noctis waits and waits—and then waits some more. When Gladio doesn’t say anything else, he chances a peek back over his shoulder. “What? That’s it?”<br/><br/>“What’d you expect?”<br/><br/>“You’re not—you’re not gonna tell my dad? Or the Council?”<br/><br/>Gladio shrugs. “Not my place. But”—he jabs a sudden finger in Noctis’s direction—"<em>try</em> to keep it down. Don’t want to wake up one day to find your fling in the tabloids just ‘cause you kept your neighbors up all night.”<br/><br/>"It’s not a fling, and I’m not lou—” Noctis grits out before his brain catches up, and he grinds to a mortifying halt, his entire face on the verge of combusting.<br/><br/>Thankfully, Gladio catches his drift. “I ain’t saying <em>you</em> are. Iggy on the other hand…”<br/><br/>It takes a couple seconds for Noctis to get what Gladio’s implying, because it’s just that crazy. Then, a laugh bursts out of him. “<em>Ignis</em>?” he says. “No way. We’re talking about Specs here, right?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Gladio says, unsmiling. “Just the one.”<br/><br/>His tone sends a cold shiver up Noctis’s spine. “The hell’re you on about?”<br/><br/>Gladio heaves a weary sigh. “Noct,” he says, “Iggy and I shared a bedroom wall in the Citadel for a year.” Then, as if that explains everything, Gladio claps him on the shoulder and re-summons his sword. “C’mon, break’s over. Up and at ‘em, lover boy.”<br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>Noctis’s relationship with Ignis isn’t exactly new. Sure, they’ve only been together for two months now (and sleeping together for just the one), but they’ve also been “together” for around fourteen years before they even had their first kiss, and that’s how Noctis knows that Gladio is full of crap.<br/><br/>Ignis isn’t <em>loud</em>. Forceful, at times, and intense and impassioned when he needs to be, but more often than not, he’s just… Ignis: reserved, dignified, the dictionary definition of prim and proper, whether he’s sitting in on a Council session or sweating it out in the training hall. Hell, even when they’re having sex and he’s balls deep in Noctis’s ass, he’s quiet, always composed and in control, never once faltering in his earnest, single-minded pursuit of Noctis’s pleasure over his own, and when he does come (inevitably after Noctis is already finished), it’s with a sharp gasp or a soft murmur of pleasure, never anything more.<br/><br/>(Honestly, thinking back on it, Noctis is pretty sure the most noise he’s ever managed to coax out of Ignis was a choked “Noct!” the first time he gave Ignis a blowjob and forgot to cover up his teeth.)<br/><br/>Knowing Gladio’s wrong doesn’t stop Noctis from thinking about it though, and <em>wondering</em>. Specifically about what Ignis might sound like with his voice cracked through with pleasure, hair all mussed up and chest heaving uncontrollably for breath, eyes screwed shut and mouth open on a loud, helpless groan as he comes apart under Noctis’s hands. Yeah, maybe even begging—<br/><br/>The hard, unforgiving toe of a shoe abruptly digs into his shin, and Noctis straightens with a guilty start, just barely managing to avoid banging his knee against the underside of the table. Councilwoman Claudia’s eyes flick his way, and Noctis thanks the Astrals that his lap’s well-concealed by his heavy formal wear.<br/><br/>Only when she glances away to continue her report does Noctis scrawl on his notepad, “<em>What was that for?</em>”<br/><br/>Ignis, beside him, scribbles demurely away. “<em>Is it too much to ask that you at least pretend to be paying attention?</em>”<br/><br/>“<em>Sorry</em>,” Noctis writes back, a little chagrined. Then, unable to stop himself, “<em>Having a hard time concentrating</em>.” He underlines HARD several times, just so Ignis gets the message.<br/><br/>Ignis nudges his glasses up his nose, the tips of his ears turning just the lightest shade of pink. “<em>Up to no good, I see</em>.”<br/><br/>“<em>You could say that. Lend me a hand later?</em>”<br/><br/>“<em>Hm. Depends on my schedule, but I’ll see if I can rise to the occasion</em>,” Ignis writes. Then he proceeds to meticulously cross out every last line of their exchange.<br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>Ignis does, in fact, make it up to Noctis later. Repeatedly. It’s great—more than, if Noctis is being honest—but it doesn’t keep his brain from drifting back to Ignis’s expression, intent and focused, sharp green eyes fixed on Noctis’s face even as he chases his own climax. When he comes, it’s with a shudder and a sharp exhale, nostrils flaring and his eyelids fluttering shut behind his glasses for just a moment before he lets out a chest-deep sigh and pulls out. Rolling over, he lowers himself careful to the mattress beside Noctis, taking care not to crush him.<br/><br/>“Down for the count?” Ignis quips even as he peels off the condom. He disposes of it in the wastebasket by Noctis’s bed and grabs a handful of tissues to help with the clean-up. He barely sounds winded.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, Noctis … <br/><br/>“Mrhrf,” Noctis manages, cheek half-squashed into the pillow, feeling loose-limbed and floppy and utterly destroyed beside Ignis’s inhuman poise. How the hell can someone wreck you so thoroughly and still look so… so…<br/><br/>Staring up at Ignis’s stupidly perfect face with his stupidly perfect hair—what the hell kind of hair gel does he use to keep it up like that while they’re fucking?—Noctis thinks, with sudden unbidden clarity, <em>Gods, I really want to mess you up.</em><br/><br/>Dammit, Gladio.<br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>In his defense, he does try to avoid thinking about it, but it’s a little bit like trying not to comment on the pungent stink of Gladio’s socks whenever he unzips his gym bag—impossible even when you know what’s good for you. Which is how he ends up Moogling the subject on his personal cell while Prompto’s over. It’s brazen and shameless, and no, he’s not being a good host or friend. His only excuse is that Prompto’s safely engrossed in the new <em>Assassin’s Creed</em> game that came out over the summer.<br/><br/>“Oh. Em. Gee,” Prompto’s saying, eyes glued to the television screen. “Noct, they even have a photo mode!”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Noctis says while he pulls up his phone’s private browser and types, <em>my boyfriend is too quiet during sex</em>. He gets over 100 million results in half a second. They’re all from women.<br/><br/>He frowns. After a second, he adds, <em>gay</em> to the end of his search and tries again.<br/><br/>“And these water graphics! I don’t think I’ve ever seen water this good. Guess the developers are finally catching up to the hardware, huh?”<br/><br/>“Probably.” Noctis squints down at his screen. The results are mostly the same, except now there’s a smattering of queries from women panicking over their boyfriends possibly being gay. Well, fine. Doesn’t make a difference, he supposes. After double-checking that his phone’s muted (just in case), Noctis clicks on one of the links. It’s an advice column. Should be relatively safe.<br/><br/>The couch bounces. “Load times are still friggin’ long though. Bummer.”<br/><br/>“Mm.”<br/><br/>“Kinda makes you wonder how they’re loading the maps.”<br/><br/>“Sure does,” he says and thumbs his way down the page. <em>Maybe that’s just the way he is</em>, he reads, which he assumes isn’t true of Ignis if Gladio’s not lying outta his ass (and there’s no reason for Gladio to lie—not about this, at least). He keeps scrolling. There’re a lot more words about societal conditioning; uncommunicated kinks and fetishes; the possibility of the guy being bi or gay (hah); and even focus—<em>He might be struggling to keep himself from coming too quickly</em>, the author writes, which Noctis puts down as a possibility, because Ignis sure is focused during sex—but in the end the advice mostly seems to boil down to, <em>Talk to him.</em><br/><br/>Not really what he was hoping to read. Talking’s not really his strong point, and anyways, it’s missing the point.<br/><br/>Noctis doesn’t want Ignis to—to put on a show for him. If he asked, he knows Ignis <em>would</em>; that’s just how Ignis is. And hell, maybe Ignis was loud with his other partners before <em>because</em> they asked him, but Noctis wants it to be real. He wants it to be <em>genuine</em>. He wants—<br/><br/>“Yoohoo.” Prompto’s face insinuates itself into his field of vision. “Eos to Noct.”<br/><br/>“Gah!” Noctis starts and clutches his phone to his chest, heart pounding. “<em>What</em>?”<br/><br/>“Well, I was gonna ask what abilities I should pick up first but now I kinda wanna know what you were looking at.” Prompto’s grin is sly. “Bit flushed there, buddy.”<br/><br/>“It’s nothing,” Noctis says. He shoves his phone into his pocket.<br/><br/>“That’s what they all say,” Prompto says, eyebrows waggling. He’s practically leering now.<br/><br/>Noctis scoffs. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”<br/><br/>“Methinks the prince doth protest too much.”<br/><br/>Noctis shoves him away, cheeks burning even as Prompto goes along with it, cackling all the while. “Shut up. I wasn’t—” Crap, Prompto’s never gonna believe him. He casts around for a plausible explanation. “I was… I was just looking up gifts for Ignis.”<br/><br/>It sounds weak to him even as he says it, but Prompto perks right up; he’s big on gift-giving, Noctis knows. “Why? Is Iggy’s birthday coming up soon?” And, following on the heel of that thought, “Should <em>I</em> be getting him something?”<br/><br/>“No!” Dammit, this is what happens when he runs his mouth. “It’s—his birthday was in February. But he’s being sworn in as Crownsguard in a couple weeks, and I was thinking about getting him a, uh, present. Just to celebrate.”<br/><br/>There, that sounds plausible. And Noctis <em>is</em> planning on getting Ignis something, so he’s not really lying.<br/><br/>“Gotcha,” Prompto says and goes back to the game. And then, because Prompto’s Prompto and can’t leave well enough alone even when he’s splitting his attention, he asks, “Sooooo, whatcha getting him?”<br/><br/>Noctis sinks back into the couch and shrugs. “Dunno.”<br/><br/>And <em>there’s</em> the lie. Noctis knows exactly what he <em>wants</em> to give Ignis, especially right now. It’s in his pants. Not really something he can admit out loud though.<br/><br/>“Well, what’d you get him for his birthday?”<br/><br/>“Uh.”<br/><br/>(<em>“Noct, you really don’t need to—” Ignis says, as Noctis presses him to the wall, sinks to his knees right in the foyer of his own apartment, and begins working on Ignis’s pants.<br/><br/>“You’re right, I don’t</em> need <em>to,” Noctis says and leaves the rest unsaid as he undoes the belt and pops open the button. As he drags down Ignis’s trousers, gentle fingers graze over his cheek, and he glances back up to find Ignis smiling down at him, expression fond. Noctis huffs out a breathless laugh and presses a kiss to the soft skin of Ignis’s thigh. “Happy birthday, Specs,” he says, then ducks his head to take Ignis into his mouth.</em>)<br/><br/>Noctis crosses his legs, uncrosses them, and wills his dick to calm the hell down. “Um. Just, y’know, stuff. Kitchen stuff.” At Prompto’s judgmental silence, he adds, “I tried cooking him something once, but it was a mess. It took us an hour to clean up, and we ended up having to do takeout instead.”<br/><br/>“And this is why you’re lousy at giving gifts. Gotta play to your strengths, dude.”<br/><br/>“I know.” Noctis rubs at his face. “Look, it’s just—he never asks me for anything, and every time I get him something, he always says he likes it just to make me happy.”<br/><br/>And that’s the problem, right there. Once Noctis asks for something, once Ignis has got it into his mind that something’ll make Noctis happy, he’ll probably do it, even if he’s not really into it himself. And Noctis doesn’t want that. Ignis does enough for him. Fourteen years of putting up with him, and he doesn’t want to add another subtle demand to the pile of crap that’s heaped up between them. Things are complicated enough as they stand, given their respective positions.<br/><br/>… not that he <em>wouldn’t</em> like to make Ignis scream in bed. He just needs to be sure that, whatever it is, it’s something Ignis wants too.<br/><br/>The thoughts don’t help his problem down south, and Noctis surreptitiously snatches a pillow and places it over his crotch. Thankfully, Prompto doesn’t notice a thing. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he climbs his way up to a synchronization point at the top of a reconstructed Solheim temple. “So you want this gift to be special,” he says with a sage nod. “Something he actually likes.”<br/><br/>Noctis grunts.<br/><br/>“Tricky. Hey, why not ask the big guy? He knows Iggy pretty well, right? Maybe he can give you some tips.”<br/><br/>The thought is, quite frankly, horrifying. <em>“Hey, Gladio. You remember when you told me Specs was loud in bed? Any chance you can give me more deets on that?”</em><br/><br/>Noctis shivers. “No way. He’d just spill.”<br/><br/>“Gladio?” Prompto slants him an odd look. “Man, you and I must know different Gladios.” He frowns, suddenly. “Gladioluses? Gladioli? What’s the plural of Gladiolus anyways?”<br/><br/>“Like I’d know.” <br/><br/>“Well, if you won’t ask him, then I dunno what to say. I don’t know Ignis that well. You might just have to sound him out.”<br/><br/>“I can’t <em>ask</em> him—”<br/><br/>“Not <em>ask</em>,” Prompto says. “Just… test the waters, y’know? Subtly.”<br/><br/>“Subtly,” Noctis repeats, skeptical.<br/><br/>“Yeah. Like, put a new brand of coffee in your fridge before he comes over and check if he drinks it. Or leave a magazine open to a page on your coffee table, see if he flips through it. Ask him if he’s heard anything interesting on the radio recently. The works.” Prompto shrugs, then drops his voice into a dramatic whisper. “Be sneaky, like an assassin.”<br/><br/>“Sneaky,” Noctis says. He snorts. “Yeah, right. Around Specs? Not gonna work.”<br/><br/>But even as he dismisses the possibility, he remembers reading, not even ten minutes ago, <em>Perhaps your boyfriend simply has kinks or desires he hasn’t disclosed to you,</em> and the beginnings of a plan slowly, gradually begin to unfurl in his mind.<br/><br/>It’s awful, truth be told. Terrible. It might even be embarrassing, but on the other hand, it’s the only idea he’s got, short of asking Ignis straight out. And besides, it's <em>scientific</em> in a way that Ignis might actually approve of if he ever clues into it. It’s also gonna take time, and patience, and determination, none of which are Noctis’s strong suits—but it’ll also involve a lot of sex, so maybe that’ll balance it out.<br/><br/>Poking and prodding at it in his mind’s eye, Noctis thinks, <em>Hngh, could be worse.</em><br/><br/>In the meantime, Prompto takes his ensuing silence as a sign of despair and reaches over to pat his knee. “You can do it, buddy. I have faith in you. Now can you please tell me what skill points I should be getting? I’m getting creamed out here.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a simple enough plan, with only one real moving part, and Noctis spends the rest of the afternoon congratulating himself on his elegant scheme. After Prompto leaves, he switches on his computer, fires up his web browser in incognito, and, with a few keystrokes, finds what he’s looking for.<br/><br/>… or not. Noctis squints at the extensive list of kinks arrayed before him in bafflement. The website’s written in Standard, but it might as well be in Altissian for all the good it does him. Even though he can read it just fine, around three-quarters of the list is incomprehensible. What the hell is figging? And … sounding?<br/><br/>Five fascinating and horrifying minutes later, Noctis closes out a tab. Okay, not... not that. He’s not going to spring <em>that</em> on Ignis. Backtracking a couple pages, he adds <em>vanilla</em> to his search terms.<br/><br/>Bingo.<br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>Things are never that simple though, and he hits a snag two weeks in—namely, Ignis.<br/><br/>“Noct? Are you… humming?”<br/><br/>Noctis doesn’t answer, but only because his mouth is full. When he feels Ignis’s fingers curling in his hair, gently tugging him back up, he’s tempted to ignore it—he wants to make this <em>work</em>, dammit—but when it becomes clear that it’s not doing anything for Ignis, he throws in the towel.<br/><br/>“Just something I read on the internet,” he says lamely as he crawls back up and settles into the circle of Ignis’s arms.<br/><br/>“Ah, I see,” Ignis says, briefly adjusting his glasses, and then falls quiet with a soft grunt as Noctis kisses him and presses their dicks together in his palm, working them both to a sticky, satisfying climax before Ignis can ask any more awkward questions.<br/><br/>Of course, Ignis being Ignis, he doesn’t let things slide that easily.<br/><br/>“Far be it from me to pry,” he says as he comes out of the restroom, washcloth in hand, “but is something troubling you, Noct?”<br/><br/>“Huh?” Noctis, who is lying in a drowsy, sex-dazed puddle on the bed and admiring the lithe cut of Ignis’s figure—seriously, how the hell did he get so lucky?—blinks in incomprehension for a split-second before his brain sputters to a start. The mattress dips as Ignis seats himself on the edge of the bed. “What? No! Why?”<br/><br/>“It’s just, I can’t help but notice that you’ve been rather … adventurous lately.” Ignis isn’t quite meeting his eyes, head canted away to stare at a nondescript corner of Noctis’s room. “And, well, it’s only natural for me to wonder if I’m at fault.”<br/><br/>What. “At fault?”<br/><br/>Ignis sighs. “I suppose I’m not expressing myself clearly.” He takes off his glasses and carefully wipes them on the corner of the washcloth, which is how Noctis <em>knows</em>, then and there, that Ignis is feeling agitated. “Noct, if you feel that our activities in the bedroom are growing stale—”<br/><br/>Noctis says, “What.”<br/><br/>“—you need only speak, and I shall attempt to rectify the situation as best—”<br/><br/>Shit. “No!” Noctis struggles upright, face red. “That’s not—I wasn’t—Specs, do I <em>look</em> like I’m tired of having sex with you?”<br/><br/>Ignis puts his glasses back on his face. He arches an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile lingering around his mouth. “Is that rhetorical?” he says dryly.<br/><br/>… okay. Noctis deserves that one. But he’ll take the teasing over—over whatever the hell this is. <br/><br/>“Bad question,” Noctis says. “I just—” <em>Want to make you fall apart like Gladio said.</em> Argh, no, he can’t say that, but Ignis is looking at him expectantly. Noctis scrubs at his face. “Look, I know you’ve been with other guys before,” he says, words tripping over his tongue. “And I—uh, you know I—haven’t.” He blows out a self-deprecating laugh. “Hell, I don’t really know what I’m doing half the time. But I don’t want you to feel like you’re, y’know”—he swallows, tries to play for casual, and fails miserably as his voice rises—“missing out by being with me? So I thought I’d try to… spice things up a bit.”<br/><br/>There. That’s about as straightforward as he can get.<br/><br/>The mattress shifts under Ignis’s weight as he moves, and Noctis feels the soothing, warm presence of Ignis’s body settle against his own, steadfast and strong. A hand takes his and peels it away from his face.<br/><br/>“Noct,” Ignis says, and the look in his eyes is <em>so earnest</em> that Noctis can’t help but feel small and undeserving, “you needn’t trouble yourself on my account. I assure you, I enjoy myself immensely whenever I’m with you.”<br/><br/>“Really?” Noctis says weakly.<br/><br/>Ignis turns Noctis’s hand over and plants a kiss against the inside of his wrist. “Truly.”<br/><br/>It’s all very distracting. Noctis watches, hypnotized, as Ignis’s lips trail down to brush over his palm and tries to rally. “I don’t even know what you like,” he says, voice halfway between breathless and strangled.<br/><br/>Ignis doesn’t even miss a beat. “Well, if you must know,” he says, “you.”<br/><br/>Only Ignis can make something so cheesy sound so profound and downright sexy. Noctis shivers at the feel of Ignis's mouth moving against his skin, soft and sweet, and in a last-ditch effort, asks, “But what do you <em>want</em>?”<br/><br/>“Whatever you want, Noct,” Ignis says, perfectly sincere, and bears him down into the bed.<br/><br/>And <em>this</em>, Noctis thinks later over the calm beating of Ignis’s heart and the steady rise and fall of his chest, is exactly why he’s fucked.<br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>So, the good news: Ignis thinks he knows what's up and is no longer fretting. This means that Noctis doesn’t have to bother trying to be sneaky anymore.<br/><br/>The bad news: Ignis doesn't <em>actually</em> know what's up but has apparently decided the best way to show Noctis how much he does, in fact, enjoy his company is by fucking him senseless whenever Noctis decides to veer off-script. This mainly manifests in him enduring Noctis’s fumbling for a measly five or ten minutes with the sort of dignified aplomb that Noctis imagines he picked up during Council sessions before taking matters into his own, more experienced hands. <br/><br/>Not something Noctis would normally complain about—and he definitely doesn’t mind in the heat of the moment when he’s equal parts turned on and frustrated as hell at his own failures. But for once in his life, he’s got an actual objective here, and getting stuck in a sexual arms race with Specs is turning out to be a major pain in the ass.<br/><br/>(Figuratively and literally. One especially vigorous weekend has him lying red-faced to Prompto about his leg acting up in response to the weather. The same excuse doesn’t work on Gladio though, who takes one look at his pronounced limp one evening and says, “That good, huh?”<br/><br/>“Shut up,” Noctis snarls, summoning his sword, and proceeds to get thoroughly wiped.)<br/><br/>He takes a break from the plan after that fiasco for a couple days. He tells himself it’s to give his injured pride (and maybe his ass) some time to recover, but really, it’s to give himself time to work up the courage to try the next thing on the list: rimming.<br/><br/>Not something Ignis has ever done with <em>him</em> before, and if there’s one vanilla-adjacent thing that Noctis suspects might actually weird Specs out, it’s this. Gods know it even weirds him out a little. But he’s running out of options here, and desperate times call for desperate measures. At least it doesn’t require any extra equipment.<br/><br/>But one day turns into three and then into seven, and it’s only after Noctis finds himself settling dangerously back into their usual routine that he realizes he’s never gonna find a good way to bring it up. <em>Hey, Specs, can I stick my tongue up your ass?</em> is a non-starter, as far as he’s concerned, and not very sexy besides. No, he thinks grimly, he just has to quit beating around the proverbial bush and go for it. So one evening after dinner, Noctis drags Ignis away from the sink before he can get started on the dishes and topples him unceremoniously onto the couch. He slides his hands down to Ignis’s belt before he can overthink things. “Mind if I…?” he says, tugging experimentally, and then drifts off as his courage wavers.<br/><br/>Ignis blinks up at him from where he’s pinned between Noctis’s thighs. The Council doesn’t meet on Sundays, so his hair’s down today. Noctis likes it. It makes him look younger, more touchable, which is good for Noctis’s jittery nerves right now. “Impatient, are we?” he says, tone dry, but a hint of a smile’s lurking around his lips. At the sight, the knot of tension in Noctis’s chest loosens ever so slightly, and he finds himself grinning back down at him.<br/><br/>“What can I say? I’m still hungry,” he says, then drops his voice a little lower and rounds out his vowels in mock-imitation of Ignis’s accent. “‘Positively ravenous,’ you might say.”<br/><br/>Ignis huffs out a laugh. “Evidently,” he says but lifts his hips in encouragement. Noctis slips open the belt and buttons and starts to shimmy down, pulling Ignis’s trousers and briefs after him. “Though, Noct…”<br/><br/>“Yeah?”<br/><br/>“You do understand, you truly needn’t concern yourself with my needs.”<br/><br/>Not this again, dammit. Noctis keeps his words light. “Not according to Gladio,” he says, getting level with Ignis’s dick. It’s half-hard and flushed already, and Noctis runs the back of his fingers over it, lightly, just to watch it twitch with want. A nice dick, a good size, familiar and safe; when he finally takes it into his hand, it fits in his palm like it’s meant to be there. “A good king’s supposed to care for his subjects, right?”<br/><br/>“Mm. I doubt Gladio was envisioning, <em>ah</em>, this when he gave you that choice advice.”<br/><br/>Noctis gives him a couple more grounding strokes before letting go, urging Ignis to bend his knees up until they loosely bracket his shoulders. “Probably not, but you know what they say about practice.”<br/><br/>“Ah. So that’s what this is, then?”<br/><br/>“Kinda.”<br/><br/>“How very diligent of you,” Ignis murmurs, fond, and sighs when Noctis ducks back down to press a trail of wet kisses across Ignis’s inner thigh. It’s more to soothe his own nerves than it is to draw any reaction out of Ignis, but he’ll take any noise he can wrench out of Ignis.<br/><br/>He keeps it simple at first, just to ease into it. A normal blowjob, nothing too fancy; he’s figured out over the past couple weeks that while Ignis, like most guys, likes getting deepthroated, it’s not enough to drive him crazy, and any stray gagging will have him putting an immediate stop to things. So instead Noctis focuses on getting Ignis hard and relaxed with his hands and mouth, focusing his attentions on the tip. Only when Ignis’s abs are starting to twitch in impatience—specifically of the “if you aren’t where I want you to be in five minutes, then I’ll be taking the wheel” sort—does he take a deep breath.<br/><br/>Here goes nothing, he thinks, and dips his head further down, hands palming Ignis’s thighs to keep them spread as he trails his tongue over Ignis’s balls, sucking lightly. Ignis makes a soft noise at that: not displeased—Noctis is ready to put the brakes on if Ignis sounds at all not into this—but more querying, and Noctis takes that as encouragement. He licks further down, over the taint—<br/><br/>“Noct?”<br/><br/>—and then further <em>back</em>, until— <br/><br/>Ignis jerks, full-body. “<em>Noct</em>—”<br/><br/>Well, it’s <em>a</em> reaction, and not a bad one judging by the way his voice breaks off into a shaky gasp as Noctis flicks his tongue over Ignis’s hole. Emboldened, he increases the pressure, tentatively tracing over the rim. He tastes and smells different from what Noctis was expecting. Better, actually, if he’s being honest, like sweat, skin, and musk. Sure, it’s a little harder to breathe down here from… lack of space, but it’s not that different from cramming his face into Ignis’s junk and giving him a blowjob. Actually, if anything, it’s <em>hotter</em>.<br/><br/>Because, okay, fact is, he’s got no clue what he’s doing—all the articles online basically just told him to go to town once he’s in the neighborhood—but even so, just five seconds in, and Ignis is letting out this low, drawn-out moan from deep within his chest like he can’t help himself. <br/><br/>It’s one of the sexiest noises that Noctis has heard in his entire life.<br/><br/><em>Gotcha</em>. Noctis grins, and, heartened by Ignis’s reaction, crawls closer so that he can hoist Ignis’s legs further over his shoulders.<br/><br/>This angle’s a lot better for him. He doesn’t have to crane his neck, and he’s got way better access, which he uses to his advantage, flattening out his tongue and lapping at Ignis’s hole with smooth, broad strokes. He tries to pay attention to Ignis's body, to figure out what feels good to him, except it <em>all</em> seems to, judging by Ignis’s gulping gasps and half-strangled groans, the way he keeps jerking like he wants to move but isn’t sure <em>how</em> or <em>where</em>. His heels dig mercilessly into Noctis’s back, and out of the corner of his eye, Noctis glimpses his arm flailing about for purchase; eventually, his hand falls upon the edge of the couch and stays there, white-knuckled, gripping so hard that Noctis can practically hear the leather creaking beneath his fingers.<br/><br/>It’s ridiculously hot. <em>Ignis</em> is ridiculously hot, and everything is just so—so <em>hot</em> down here that he’s starting to feel woozy from lack of air. Or maybe that’s all the blood rushing to his dick.<br/><br/>Whatever it is, it’s probably why he decides to go all-in, then and there.<br/><br/>He surfaces for a few quick breaths of fresh air before diving back down. By now, Ignis’s thighs are tense and trembling in Noctis’s palms, and his hole’s slick with spit—looser too after all that attention. Before he can have any second thoughts, he nestles his nose right in that space below Ignis’s balls, presses his lips to the rim of Ignis’s hole, and tries to lick his way in.<br/><br/>The effect is instantaneous: a sharp, aborted cry and Ignis’s feet dragging helplessly against Noctis’s back, desperately scrambling for leverage. Noctis manages to work the tip of his tongue past the outermost ring of muscle, then out again, and in. “Oh, oh <em>gods</em>—” he hears, half-muffled, as Ignis’s thighs tighten vice-like around his back, and he pulls back just in time to see Ignis’s head thumping back against the cushion, eyes squeezed shut, one hand clamped tight over his mouth as he spills all over his button-down, dick untouched.<br/><br/>“Fuck,” Noctis says, breathing hard. He drops Ignis’s thighs and reaches down to fumble open his own pants, unable to look away from Ignis, dazed and half-naked on his couch with come splattered across his shirt. He’s flushed and panting like he’s just run a marathon, sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead, and it only takes a few clumsy strokes before Noctis is coming all over the cushions with a gritted moan.<br/><br/>“That,” Ignis says when Noctis crawls on top of him to cuddle in the aftermath, floppy-limbed and tired, “was filthy.”<br/><br/>“You’re the one who’s always telling me off for my picky eating. Guess I took it to heart.”<br/><br/>“You certainly took it <em>too hard</em>,” Ignis says but without reproach. Still, when Noctis aims for a sloppy kiss, he’s met by a turned cheek and a restraining hand. “No. That’s where I draw the line. Go—go brush your teeth and gargle some mouthwash.”<br/><br/>“Seriously?” At Ignis’s baleful glare, Noctis snorts but relents, sliding off the couch. “You weren’t complaining five minutes ago,” he says as a parting shot. “In fact, I recall you were singing a pretty different tune when I had my tongue up your ass.”<br/><br/>He’s only teasing, but Ignis’s ears turn a fascinating shade of red, and he clears his throat. “Yes, well,” he says as he sits up. He picks at his ruined shirt, deliberately avoiding Noctis’s gaze. “You clearly need your hearing checked.”<br/><br/>“Apparently,” Noctis says slowly, as the last piece of the puzzle finally, after so long, slides into place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You might notice that the chapter count’s been updated. When I first started posting this fic, I had planned to split it into three chapters, but this last stretch is a bit lengthy, and four ended up feeling more appropriate in terms of chapter-by-chapter pacing anyways. I’ll hopefully have the final chapter out over the next few days.</p>
<p>Thanks for reading, everyone! I appreciate your patience, kudos, and comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noctis remembers, vividly, the first time he and Ignis had sex.<br/><br/>It happened around a month after they’d gotten together, which was roughly a month later than Noctis would’ve liked. After four frustrating weeks of private dinner dates, mostly comprised of cuddling, handholding, and trading sweet but infuriatingly chaste kisses on the couch instead of paying attention to whatever was playing on the television, Noctis finally snapped and all but dragged Specs into the bedroom.<br/><br/>He remembers, very clearly, all the embarrassing bits: trying to kick off his pants and tripping over them instead; tumbling onto the mattress and hauling Ignis after him. He remembers getting the wind knocked out of him by a stray, bony elbow right in his solar plexus, and Ignis’s abject apologies. The way Noctis had silenced him by rolling them over and kissing Ignis so hard that they both forgot how to breathe.<br/><br/>He remembers fumbling one-handed at his nightstand while struggling to get Ignis out of his shirt with the other, the skittering of a button across the floor and Ignis’s resigned dismay (“I suppose that’s, mmph, payback for the elbow?”)—that thrill of triumph when Noctis’s fingers finally, <em>finally</em> found the condom packet buried under the pile of crap in his nightstand drawer. He’d swiped it from the school clinic the week before when nobody was looking, more on a whim than any hope he’d even make it to second base. But then, there he was, grinding down against Ignis, condom in hand, but not entirely sure what he wanted to do, just that he needed to do <em>something</em>, when Ignis made the decision for him by reaching up to pluck the packet from Noctis’s fingers.<br/><br/>“Noct, you’re sure?” he’d said. “We needn’t go so fast if you don’t feel—”<br/><br/>The words left him in a rush, desperate and urgent: “Don’t, I’m ready, I want this.”<br/><br/>“Very well,” Ignis said, dropping a hand down to knead Noctis’s ass. “Shall we, then?”<br/><br/>So yeah, go figure. After that—and the accruing sample size of sexual encounters that proved, if nothing else, that Ignis was pretty damn experienced with topping and enjoyed it well enough to want to keep doing it—it just never crossed Noctis’s mind that Ignis might also like being… well, fucked. Or that he might be too embarrassed or proper or whatever to ask for it. Sometimes Ignis could get a little bit weird about requesting something just for himself.<br/><br/>And it wasn’t that Noctis hadn’t thought about it before—before they got together, he’d jerked himself raw fantasizing about getting Ignis on his back—but Ignis never brought it up, and Noctis just sorta assumed the option wasn’t on the table.<br/><br/>Hell, it still might <em>not</em> be, Noctis thinks nervously as he sneaks a glance at Ignis’s back from where he’s seated at the breakfast bar. Judging by Ignis’s reaction to his teasing Sunday night, he might be outta luck. A week’s passed, and they still haven’t really spoken about the incident. In fact, Noctis hasn’t even been able to get his mouth within spitting distance of Ignis’s ass, and not for lack of trying either. Ever since that day, Ignis has firmly taken the lead on every encounter they’ve had, and none of them have involved Noctis’s face going below Ignis’s belt, even for something as simple as a blowjob.<br/><br/>It’s frustrating as hell, and Ignis doesn’t help matters at all when he bends over to retrieve something from the cabinet under the sink. Against his will, Noctis’s eyes drift helplessly down to Ignis’s rear. His slacks aren’t exactly tight, per se, but they’re well-fitted and tailored, and Noctis lets himself indulge in a brief fantasy of crowding Ignis up against the counter, unbuckling his belt, bending him over, and then—<br/><br/>“Noct?”<br/><br/>Noctis starts guiltily, hunching back over over his calculus textbook. “Uh, yeah?” he says. His voice comes out a bit hoarse, and a voice in the back of his mind, suspiciously similar to Gladio’s, says, <em>Gods, you’re pathetic.</em><br/><br/>Thankfully, Ignis doesn’t notice—doesn’t even spare him a glance, in fact, too intent on his own cooking. “If you’re not too busy, would you mind setting the water to boil for the pasta?”<br/><br/>“Right. Sure.” Noctis slams his textbook shut and slides off his stool, glad that he finally has something to do other than to stew in his own self-pity and perv on Ignis. It’s not like he was making any progress on his problem set anyways. Turns out it’s hard to focus when all he can think of is Ignis’s ass.<br/><br/>… literally hard. Noctis surreptitiously adjusts himself before joining Ignis by the stove. As he waits for the water to boil and tries to figure out how he wants to play this, he sneaks a couple glances at Ignis. He’s still dressed up in office-wear today. It’s the usual drab white-and-brown, but he somehow makes it look good anyways; the vest clings to his chest, showing off the sturdy breadth of his shoulders and the slimness of his waist. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone at the collar, giving him an almost rakish look. He’s even got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, baring his forearms as he chops up something offensively green in preparation for dinner, filling the quiet of the flat with a calm, methodical <em>thock-thock-thock</em>. <br/><br/>Normally, Noctis would grouse about all the added veggies, but right now all he can think of is how much he’d rather be filling his apartment with a different sort of noise.<br/><br/>“Penne for your thoughts?” Ignis says as he dumps the intimidating pile of vegetables into a pan and turns the heat up to medium.<br/><br/>“Huh?” Noctis says intelligently. He tears his eyes away from Ignis’s … everything.<br/><br/>Ignis quirks his lips. “I can practically see the steam rising from your ears. You’ve said nary a word since I’ve begun cooking.”<br/><br/>Noctis feels his cheeks heat up, which is just as bad as a confession. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his hip against the counter. “Oh, y’know, just … thinking.”<br/><br/>Ignis actually smirks. “Now, now, don’t <em>strain</em> yourself.”<br/><br/>“Real funny,” Noctis grumbles even though he knows he walked right into that one. He watches as Ignis turns over the vegetables with a spatula. The sound and smell of sizzling garlic, zucchinis, and tomatoes fill the apartment. Noctis worries at his bottom lip. “Hey, uh, Specs?” he says, after a few minutes.<br/><br/>“Hm?”<br/><br/>Here goes. “I wanted to ask about the, uh… the thing last week.”<br/><br/>Ignis frowns. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” he says. “There were a great many things that happened last week. Although, if this is about the infrastructure report, then I’ll need to—”<br/><br/>Argh. “No! It’s not that. It’s nothing to do with the Council. I was talking about the, the—” He gropes around for better words and comes up empty. Dammit. “The tongue thing,” he finishes lamely.<br/><br/>Ignis stops. Actually full-on stops, his hand stilling as he blinks blankly at the kitchen wall for a good ten seconds. Then he clears his throat and turns to check on the water. “Ah. Yes,” he says, overly loud. He fusses over the pot, ears gone a faint pink. “Mind passing me the pasta?”<br/><br/>Noctis does and watches Ignis dump a generous helping into the water, followed by several pinches of salt. When it’s clear that Ignis has no intention of saying anything else, he inches forward cautiously. “Did you… like it?”<br/><br/>“I believe I made my feelings abundantly clear on the matter,” Ignis says without looking at him. It’s about as explicit a yes as Noctis is ever gonna get, and the lump in his throat eases up a fraction.<br/><br/>“Yeah, okay, I just—” Noctis takes a breath and drags a hand down his face. Why’s this so hard? Jeez, he had his tongue in Ignis’s ass just a couple days ago, and Ignis has all but admitted he was into it. This should be a cakewalk. He takes a breath. “I’ve just been thinking lately that I… um, I want to try, y’know, topping.”<br/><br/><em>Hisssss</em>, go the vegetables. <br/><br/><em>Blorpblorp</em>, goes the pasta.<br/><br/>“Ah,” says Ignis, voice faint.<br/><br/>“If—only if you’d be into it!” Noctis adds hastily. “If it’s not up your alley, we don’t have to. I don’t wanna push you into anything, I just thought… you might like doing it. With me.” Noctis cringes at his own words—<em>Wow, smooth one, Prince Charming</em>—but when Ignis doesn’t immediately reject him, he gathers up the remaining shreds of his dignity. “Uh. Would you?”<br/><br/>An eternity creeps by, during which Ignis staunchly refuses to make eye contact. He opens his mouth, closes it. Then he frowns and says, “Well, I—” He clears his throat. “It certainly hasn’t—” He takes off his glasses and wipes them on his shirt. The flush, Noctis notices, has started a slow crawl down from his ears to his cheeks. He replaces the glasses on his face. “Noct,” he says, “what’s brought this on all of a sudden?”<br/><br/><em>Gladio</em>, Noctis thinks and is briefly treated to a violent image of Ignis kicking Gladio’s ass tomorrow. He hides a wince and shrugs instead, one-shouldered and noncommittal. “You seemed to like what we did on Sunday. I just… want to make you happy, I guess.”<br/><br/>“Noct, I <em>am</em>—” Ignis begins, but the pasta chooses that exact moment to boil over, the stove hissing as foam bubbles over the side of the pot. Both of them start, but Ignis makes a swift recovery, stepping back to adjust the heat. “A spoon, if you please,” he says, all business again, hand extended. Noctis swiftly passes him one from the drawer. He watches as Ignis gives the pasta a few stirs before laying it over the top of the pot so that he can tend to the vegetables. They, unfortunately, look like they’re in fine form—definitely not in any danger of burning.<br/><br/>“Next time, you’ll want to turn the heat down after you add the pasta. Otherwise, the starches will cause—”<br/><br/>“Specs.”<br/><br/>Ignis sighs and twists a knob. “Noct, I am perfectly content with our sex life.”<br/><br/>“Content’s a far cry from happy,” Noctis says and immediately hates the raw, whining edge that creeps into his voice. He exhales, long and hard, and tries again. “Look, it’s—I really like it when you fuck me, okay? It feels good. You, uh, you make me feel good. And I—” He ducks his head, face burning. How the <em>hell</em> do people talk about stuff like this? “I want to return the favor. I want to take care of you.”<br/><br/>Ignis makes a noise of protest. “Noct, you—"<br/><br/>“No, wait, don’t—don’t give me that crap about how what you want doesn’t matter, ‘cause it does matter. It matters to <em>me</em>. And, uh—” With an effort, Noctis forces himself to look back up at Ignis, who’s staring at him now, eyes wide, lips parted, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. “And maybe I’m way off-base here, but I think you want this too, maybe even as much as I do. You just don’t want to ask for it ‘cause you’re embarrassed or—or maybe you think you’re not allowed to ask for more.” He licks his lips nervously. “But if I’m wrong or overstepping, just say the word. I won’t mention it again. But if I’m right… well, I’m offering.”<br/><br/>There’s a silence. Ignis shuts his mouth, opens it again. Noctis braces himself.<br/><br/>“I—” Ignis says, then breaks off, flustered. His throat bobs, and he looks aside, reaches up to fiddle with his glasses. “Well, I… must confess, I—can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind before.”<br/><br/>That… was encouraging, right? Noctis releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, nice and slow. His heart thuds in his chest. “Yeah?”<br/><br/>Ignis grabs the dish towel hanging from the oven door and wipes at his hands. “Of course, it’s been quite some time for me since I’ve… received. And you’ll know there’s some, ah, preparation involved.”<br/><br/>“… but?” Noctis says, trying not to sound too eager.<br/><br/>He probably fails, given the small almost-smile that flickers across Ignis’s lips, there and gone, as he finally meets Noctis’s eyes. “<em>But</em> I suppose I’d be willing to try, with you,” he says, then adds, “Under one condition.”<br/><br/>“What?” Noctis says. He sways, lightheaded and dizzy with elation. “Shoot. I’ll do anything.”<br/><br/>“Anything, you say?” Ignis arches an eyebrow and glances pointedly at the pan of steaming vegetables.<br/><br/>A beat, and then Noctis crashes back down to earth.<br/><br/>“Seriously? <em>That’s</em> what you want?” At Ignis’s smug smile, he groans. “Talk about a mood-killer.”<br/><br/>“It’s as they say,” Ignis says. He turns to fish a strainer out of the drawer. “There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Well, supper, in this case.”<br/><br/>“Oh, now that’s just low-hanging fruit.”<br/><br/>“Hm.” Ignis flashes him a grin. “I was under the impression that your tastes lay in that direction.”<br/><br/>It’s <em>terrible</em>. Noctis can’t help but laugh. “Pot, kettle.”<br/><br/>“Like two peas in a pod, I suppose,” Ignis says fondly as he gives the pasta another stir. He shuts off the burner. “Now go set the table. You don’t want your supper getting cold.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Noctis used “Words!”</p>
<p>It’s super-effective!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the wait. Unexpectedly busy week. Hope this final installment makes up for it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a long dinner. Not the longest of Noctis’s life—that honor goes to all the state dinners he’s had to attend over the years—but it comes pretty close, in between the anticipation and the veggies. Once they’re done eating, he shoos Ignis away to the restroom by promising to take care of the dishes. It’s only afterwards when he’s standing alone in his bedroom with nothing to occupy himself and the sound of distant water running in the background that his excitement fades into apprehension. His mouth goes dry, his palms start to sweat, and his stomach begins quivering, and as much as he wants to blame the greens, he’s pretty sure he’s just got a bad case of the nerves. After a couple minutes of browsing his phone for tips—or <em>tips</em>, another more hysterical part of him points out with a waggle of imaginary eyebrows—he gets up and rummages through his drawer for a condom. He shoves it under his pillow for easy access, and then, squinting at the nightstand, repositions the lube so it’s closer to the bed. He fixes up the bed, pulling the blankets and sheets straight so that they won’t get in the way. Pulls the blinds shut. Pointedly turns his Carbuncle charm around so that it’s facing away from the bed. <br/><br/>Then he sits back down, leg bouncing.<br/><br/>One would think having bottomed before would make him less jittery. He’s got the motions down pat, knows how it’s supposed to go. But what he <em>doesn’t</em> know is if he can make Ignis feel anywhere near as good as he makes Noctis feels. Even fantasizing about Ignis wet in the shower fingering himself isn’t helping him relax, but Noctis tries anyways, rubbing himself through his jeans until he’s half-hard.<br/><br/>Though … shit, maybe he should get undressed before Ignis finishes washing up? He peels off his t-shirt, balls it up, and aims for the laundry hamper. He shoots and misses. It crumples to the floor in a sad, pitiful pile, and he trudges over to pick it up, because nothing kills the mood faster than Ignis getting distracted by an untidy room, and he wants to get this <em>right</em> for him on the first try. But then, just as he’s dumping his jeans in the hamper, he remembers that Ignis <em>likes</em> watching him undress—something about anticipation being its own reward—and… argh.<br/><br/>Noctis fishes his shirt back out and yanks it on again with a growl of frustration. He’s just about to do the same with his jeans when he hears the running water stop. After another few seconds, the door creaks open, and quiet footsteps pad down the hall. Panicking, Noctis gives up his pants as a lost cause—he’ll just have to hope he doesn’t look too ridiculous in a wrinkled shirt and boxer-briefs—and rearranges himself on the bed, reclining back against the pillows and headboard with his phone in hand like this is just any other ordinary night.<br/><br/>He’s pretty sure he fails at the whole casual act, but the act of doing something, <em>anything</em>, makes him feel better by the time Ignis shows up at his bedroom door. He’s fully dressed again, silk pajamas hanging loose from his shoulders and hips. Out of uniform, he looks soft, muzzy, and vulnerable, the pale, graceful curve of his clavicles visible where his collar falls open. His hair is down, damp and ruffled from toweling it dry. He also smells, Noctis thinks dumbly as Ignis seats himself on the edge of the bed, really damn good, clean and fresh and masculine. Noctis feels dirty by comparison, but he tries not to let his nerves show as he puts away his phone and sits up.<br/><br/>“You could’ve just left these off. I wouldn’t have minded,” Noctis says. He plucks at Ignis’s shirt and pops one of the buttons open. His hands don’t tremble. Score.<br/><br/>“Yes, well,” Ignis says. His cheeks are a little flushed, though Noctis isn’t sure whether it’s from the heat of the shower or from something else. “I shudder to think what the tabloids would say if ever someone were to snap a photograph of me striding bare-arsed across your living room.”<br/><br/>Noctis snorts. He slips another button free. “Not gonna happen. We’re pretty far up. But,” he adds, keeping his voice light and teasing even though he feels about ready to vibrate out of his skin, “if you’re worried, I can take you higher if you want.”<br/><br/>He’s rewarded with a wry smile and eyes flickering down to his crotch. “You’re certainly up for the challenge, I see.”<br/><br/>“You complaining?”<br/><br/>Ignis laughs softly. “Hardly,” he says, and Noctis finds himself grinning helplessly back at him. <br/><br/>It only takes him a few more seconds to finish undoing the final buttons of Ignis’s shirt, and then the fabric parts before his hands, slithering from Ignis’s shoulders like water, shimmery and light. Noctis takes a moment to collect himself, sliding his palms up Ignis’s bare chest, admiring the strong, lean shape of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his heart beneath his palms. It’s beating almost as fast as his own, despite Ignis’s outward composure.<br/><br/>Noctis wants to break that composure. He remembers the low, cracked desperation of Ignis’s groans, the way his body had twitched and jerked in his hands like he couldn’t control himself, his back arching as he came all over his clothes last Sunday. He’d never seen Ignis so <em>gone</em> before, and he wants to do that again.<br/><br/>“Noct?”<br/><br/>Ignis’s brow is furrowed in concern. Noctis swallows, throat dry. He lets out a shaky breath. “Sorry. Just appreciating the view,” he says. And then, before his courage can desert him, he swings a leg over Ignis’s lap and rolls them both into the mattress.<br/><br/>It’s just like the first time they had sex—uncoordinated and ungainly and awkward as hell. Ignis lets out a sharp <em>oomph</em> as his back hits the bed, one of Noctis’s hands smacks painfully against the wall, and when Noctis recovers enough to try to go in for a kiss, he misjudges the angle and accidentally mashes his teeth against Ignis’s bottom lip. It’s <em>bad</em>—the only saving grace is that he hasn’t kneed Ignis in the balls or headbutted him (yet)—and for a second, Noctis is convinced he’s ruined everything. But then Ignis is sliding his hands beneath Noctis’s shirt, fingers trailing over his back muscles as he tilts his face, readjusting the angle so that their mouths slot together. He breathes out a soft, pleased <em>mmm</em>, barely audible, as he coaxes Noctis’s lips apart, and just like that, everything falls into place.<br/><br/>The hell’s he so worried about? It’s just Specs. It’s just the two of them. Hell, yeah, they can do this.<br/><br/>His renewed confidence buoys him forward. He licks into Ignis’s mouth and gradually deepens the kiss until he’s forcing Ignis’s head back into the pillow. Ignis goes without a fight, apparently content to let Noctis take the lead tonight; he parts his legs when Noctis slips a thigh between them, sucking in a sharp breath when Noctis brings it flush against his groin. He’s fully hard already, Noctis notes with a small thrill—okay, maybe he’s not doing so bad after all—and he lifts his hips obligingly when Noctis tugs on the waistband of his pajamas. Noctis has to break their kiss to help him shuck it off, and after it goes careening off into the void that’s the bedroom floor, he pauses, fingers lingering on the hem of his own shirt as he fights off a grin.<br/><br/>“No underwear tonight, huh?”<br/><br/>Ignis, propped up on his elbows, colors and looks aside. “It seemed beside the point.”<br/><br/>Noctis laughs. “Who said I was complaining?” he says and peels off his t-shirt. He does it slower than he normally would by himself, with his arms crossed and back arched, because he knows Ignis enjoys the show. After he’s done, he catches Ignis’s appreciative gaze with a bashful laugh and tosses the shirt aside with what he hopes is a sexy flourish. Then he crawls back down into his arms, seeking another kiss, one more, and then another, drinking down every quiet sigh that escapes from Ignis’s lips as Noctis presses him down into the mattress. <br/><br/>It’s a lot easier like this, when he doesn’t have to talk—when all he has to do is act and react and lose himself in the smooth glide of skin on skin, the tangle of fingers through his hair, the wet heat of Ignis’s mouth. Ignis makes it easy too; he might not be verbal, but it’s hard to mistake the catch of his breath or the tightening of his fingers for anything but approval when Noctis rolls his hips down, pushing his clothed erection against Ignis’s own in a hot, dizzying grind. The contact’s more frustrating than relieving, to be honest, but it’s a hell of a turn-on, the way Ignis is stifling his gasps and tipping his chin up as his eyes flutter shut. Noctis drags his lips to the column of Ignis’s throat, lavishing that sensitive spot right beneath Ignis’s jaw with hot open-mouthed kisses.<br/><br/>“Noct,” Ignis says hoarsely, the syllable coming out in a harsh, moist breath against Noctis’s ear. His pulse thunders beneath Noctis’s lips.<br/><br/>“Yeah, I know. No hickeys.” One of life’s biggest tragedies, in Noctis’s opinion. But one of these days, he’s gonna see if he can get Ignis a week or two off so he can finally—<br/><br/>“No, I meant”—and Noctis startles a little when Ignis slides his hands down the back of his boxer-briefs—“if you want this evening to proceed as planned, you’d best finish undressing.”<br/><br/>Oh, yeah. Right. “Help me out?” Noctis says breathlessly, pulling back.<br/><br/>It takes some maneuvering, but between the two of them, he manages to wriggle one-handed out of his boxer-briefs, exposing his trapped erection to the cool air of the bedroom. He’s rock-hard already, dick flushed and practically drooling with precome, and he hisses, stomach clenching as Ignis gives him a few strokes. He’s able to bear it for just a couple seconds before he breaks, tackling Ignis back down into the mattress for another kiss, this one hot and wet and hungry. Ignis gives as good as he gets this time, arching up to meet him and hooking a leg over Noctis’s hip. Their dicks press together, the contact sending a frission of pleasure shivering right through the core of him to pool in the pit of his belly, and gods, if he doesn’t get inside Ignis right now, he’s gonna lose it.<br/><br/>He slides a hand down to the back of Ignis’s thigh, letting his fingers trace over the cleft of his ass. Ignis twitches hard beneath him, his hips coming up in an aborted jerk. “Okay?” Noctis says.<br/><br/>Ignis swallows. “Yes,” he says. Then, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “The lubricant?”<br/><br/>Noctis’s dick <em>throbs</em>. He gropes out blindly for the nightstand, curses as his fingers thwack into the hard, wooden edge, and then swears again when he accidentally knocks the lube to the floor. Dammit.<br/><br/>“Don’t—don’t move,” he says, face heating up, and darts off the bed. A soft huff of laughter trails after him.<br/><br/><em>Don’t move?</em> Yeah, like Ignis is going anywhere.<br/><br/>By the time he retrieves the lube from where it rolled under the bed, Ignis has rearranged himself on the mattress. He’s stretched out now on his stomach, arms folded and face half-hidden in the pillow tucked beneath his chin. His glasses are gone too, resting on the nightstand, and Noctis takes a moment to get himself under control and to just admire the subtle dip of back muscles under his skin. Biting his lip, he crawls back onto the bed and tosses the lube onto the sheets. Then, unable to help himself, he bends to press a kiss to the base of Ignis’s spine, right above the curve of his ass.<br/><br/>Ignis twitches. “Noct,” he says, a note of frustration sharpening his voice.<br/><br/>Good to know he’s not the only impatient one here. “Want me to eat you out?”<br/><br/>Even though Ignis isn’t looking remotely in his direction, Noctis can see his ears redden. “That—won’t be necessary,” Ignis says half into the pillow. “Your fingers should suffice.”<br/><br/>“Gotcha.” Uncurling from his position, Noctis fumbles for the lube and pours a liberal helping onto his fingers. <em>Now</em> they’re trembling, go figure. He bites his lip as his eyes wander over Ignis’s ass. “Um. Could you bring your knees up a little?”<br/><br/>It comes out less confident than he’d like, but Ignis follows his instruction without a word, folding his legs up underneath him. The motion pushes his face deeper into the pillow, but it spreads him out too, putting him <em>all</em> on display: his hole, his balls, his dick hanging hard, heavy, and flushed between his thighs. It’s nothing Noctis hasn’t seen before, but the view still makes him feel like he’s going to faint from all the blood rushing to his dick; somehow knowing that he’s going to be inside Ignis tonight and that Ignis <em>wants</em> him there—it somehow makes the sight just that much hotter.<br/><br/>Ignis’s tetchy voice, muffled by the pillow, interrupts his goggling. “It’s rude to stare.”<br/><br/>“I’m admiring,” Noctis says, but he takes the admonishment for the command that it is, and lets his clean hand settle on one of Ignis’s ass cheeks. He squeezes it, more for comfort than anything else. “Tell me if I’m going too fast or if you need me to stop, all right?”<br/><br/>Ignis makes a wordless noise of assent, and Noctis exhales a shaky breath before pressing a slick finger to the puckered skin of Ignis’s entrance.<br/><br/>He tries to be careful, because Ignis said it’s been a while since he’s done this, and if he <em>hurts</em> him… well, he’s just not going to. He traces the rim like Ignis sometimes does when he’s prepping Noctis and they have the time to spare, sort of similar to what he did with his tongue too. Ignis goes all taut and rigid at the contact, but after a couple seconds, Noctis feels more than hears him sigh, the tense lines of his body loosening and blurring as he relaxes.<br/><br/>“Noct,” Ignis says. He pushes back into Noctis’s hands. “Don’t be a tease.”<br/><br/>“Learned from the best,” Noctis says, but he pulls back to dribble more lube onto his unsteady fingers—better safe than sorry—before settling back in place. Ignis’s hole is gaping open a bit wider now, and for a moment, his mouth actually <em>waters</em> as he thinks about pressing his tongue right in there. But that’s not what Ignis ordered, so he puts one hand on Ignis’s hip to ground himself instead, and then, very carefully, pushes a finger slowly in.<br/><br/>Aided by the lube and foreplay, his finger slips in easily, up to the first knuckle and then further in, but—gods, Ignis wasn’t kidding. He’s tight as fuck. Muscles clench and unclench spasmodically around his digit, making his groin pound in sympathetic heat. Only when Noctis finally has his whole finger buried in Ignis’s ass does he let out a breath. He glances up at Ignis; his face is hidden, but his thighs are visibly trembling, and sweat’s beading up in the small of his back and the top of his crack. His hands clutch tightly at the pillow. <br/><br/>Noctis licks his lips. “You okay?”<br/><br/>Ignis’s reply, when it comes, is faint. “Yes,” he says, and makes a soft, stifled noise, almost lost, when Noctis withdraws his finger, then thrusts it back in, starting up an unhurried, gentle rhythm. He keeps the pace torturously slow even though he feels like he’s about to combust. Ignis is hot as a furnace around his finger and slippery with lube, and it’s all he can do to keep himself tuned in to Ignis’s reactions—the hitch in his breath, the shudder of his thighs, the shift and flex of his ass—when his body’s screaming at him to just shove his aching dick in and go to town. He resists the urge though and reaches down to stroke Ignis instead, hoping that’ll distract him. It works, sort of. At the sudden contact, Ignis starts with a hiss, but after a minute or two, he begins to shift on his knees, rocking back and forth between Noctis’s two hands. At first, the motion’s barely noticeable, but then when Ignis’s breathing picks up, loud in the silence of his bedroom…<br/><br/><em>Shit.</em> <br/><br/>Noctis stares, mesmerized. Can’t help it. ‘Cause this is Specs—buttoned-up, uptight, proper Specs—fucking himself, riding his finger and panting like he wants nothing more than to be taken. It’s surreal and dizzyingly hot, and he’s so transfixed that it takes an embarrassingly long time for him to even register that Ignis is speaking.<br/><br/>“Sorry. What?”<br/><br/>“Another,” Ignis says, louder, turning his face to the side even as he bucks forward helplessly into Noctis’s palm, and then back again. He sounds winded, breathless, ragged. Fuck, what Noctis would give to be able to see his face right now.<br/><br/>He does as Ignis asks though, pausing only to add even more lube to his hand. When he slides in two fingers this time, he actually hears an honest-to-gods groan tear itself from Ignis’s throat as he sags full-bodied into the pillow. It comes out garbled, choked, and half-muffled, and Noctis can only imagine what he must look like right now, eyes glassy, mouth hanging open, cheek mashed against the pillow as he pants. The next steady push of Noctis’s fingers rewards him with a gasp instead of a moan, but that’s just as hot, and when he crooks his fingers, searching—<br/><br/>He knows the instant he’s found it: Ignis jerks forward, hard, with a sharp, wordless cry, and Noctis grins, lightheaded and giddy. He grazes that spot again and then again, and watches, stunned, as Ignis’s cries suddenly break into a long, wanton moan, his back arching and head coming up as he grinds shamelessly back against Noctis’s fingers.<br/><br/><em>Fuck.</em><br/><br/>“Noct,” Ignis says, and there’s a breathy, high-pitched quality to his words now, practically a whine. He pushes back again, moaning, and, holy crap, that’s—that’s a lot of precome beading out from the tip of his dick. It drips onto the sheets. “Noct. That’s—that’s enough.”<br/><br/>Noctis isn’t even moving now, a part of his brain—the bit that’s still got some blood circulation—wants to point out; it’s all <em>Ignis</em> who’s working himself open on Noctis’s fingers.<br/><br/>Instead, he licks his lips and croaks, against the insistent throbbing of his groin, “You sure?”<br/><br/>But Ignis just makes a frustrated sound at his question, shoving his hips back again. “I’m positive.”<br/><br/>Noctis doesn’t need to be told thrice. Sliding his fingers free, he lunges for the nightstand. He’s got the drawer half-open before he abruptly remembers that he’d stashed a condom underneath the pillow like a <em>genius</em>, and then he’s leaning over Ignis’s back and shoving his hand beneath Ignis’s chest, rooting around for it amidst the wrinkled sheets. Ignis makes a noise, half-disgruntled and half-questioning, and shifts impatiently at his rummaging, but he shivers when Noctis licks a trail up the knobs of his spine to the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. His skin is damp and salty with sweat. At the sensation, Ignis tips forward into the pillow once more with a harsh breath, his fingers tightening in the covers, his ass dragging lightly against Noctis’s dick, and, fuck, it’s all so <em>hot</em> that Noctis has to put his clumsy search for the condom on hold for a couple seconds while he mindlessly ruts against the cleft of Ignis’s ass. It’s still slippery from all the lube he used earlier, and the friction feels, gods, amazing. He just wishes he could <em>see</em>—<br/><br/>The question slips out before he even realizes it, panted into Ignis’s ear: “Turn over for me?”<br/><br/>‘Course, as soon as it’s out, he wants to punch himself in the face for ruining the mood. Ignis’ll probably stiffen and demur in embarrassment. And just when things were going so well…<br/><br/>But Ignis surprises him again, twisting about in his arms without hesitation. The motion lacks his usual grace, made hasty but awkward with desperation. Noctis has to shuffle back on his knees to give him space and to avoid being beaned by Ignis’s knees, but once Ignis is settled, he reels Noctis back in with eager urgency, his mouth claiming Noctis’s in a searing kiss. His legs spread shamelessly to wrap around Noctis’s hips, and yeah, that’s good, that’s way better, yeah, great idea—<br/><br/>“Noct, please,” Ignis breathes, and suddenly, there’re hands grabbing at his ass. They urge him closer and closer, until his dick’s rubbing right up against that spot beneath Ignis’s balls. All Noctis has to do is cant himself down and snap his hips forward to—wait.<br/><br/>Wait. Wait, he’d been—<br/><br/>“Fuck,” he groans, “the condom.” And the lube. Dammit. Where the hell—? Noctis frantically fishes around again beneath the pillow beneath Ignis’s back. His fingers meet nothing but crumpled fabric. Crap, it must’ve gotten shifted around when Ignis was moving things around earlier. He pulls away, ignoring Ignis’s sound of protest, and reaches for the nightstand. “Wait, I can—” <br/><br/>“No, leave it,” Ignis pants.<br/><br/>“—get another—wait, <em>what</em>?”<br/><br/>Ignis doesn’t bother replying, just tugs him back in and catches his lips again before Noctis can recover. His thighs tighten viselike around Noctis’s waist, and Noctis feels his already paper-thin resolve waver, then collapse as one of Ignis’s hands skims down between their bodies to take him in hand. He groans again as fingers dig into the meat of his ass, encouraging him forward. His dick catches at Ignis’s rim, and gods, he wants to, he really does, but—<br/><br/>Lube. The lube. The condom they can do without, but he needs to get the lube. Unwilling to break away from the wet heat of Ignis’s mouth, Noctis pats blindly at the bed cover with one hand and grabs at Ignis’s dick with the other. It’s a transparent attempt at a distraction, but sue him, it <em>works</em>: Ignis jerks and gasps into his mouth, his eyelids fluttering shut as his grip on him loosens. It gives Noctis enough time to find the lube, and he just almost crows in triumph when his fingers fall upon the familiar shape amidst the ruined covers.<br/><br/><em>Fucking finally.</em><br/><br/>From there, it’s quick work for him to flick it open with his thumb and to pour out some lube between the two of them. He gets it everywhere, not only dripping it all over himself but onto Ignis too, his dick and balls and abs, and even the bed when he tosses it aside without fully capping it again. It leaves a long, shining streak on the covers, but he can’t bring himself to give a shit, not when Ignis obviously doesn’t, judging by how he doesn’t bother chiding Noctis at all. Instead, he’s reaching out to stroke Noctis’s dick, helping him lube up, and then Noctis is shuffling forward on his knees, steadying his dick and lining himself up again.<br/><br/>“Ready?” he says, voice gone all weird and raspy. His muscles shake from the effort of holding himself back.<br/><br/>And Ignis, eyes dark and hazy and hungry with lust, says, “Yes, Noct, <em>now</em>, please,” and Noctis gives in, hips snapping forward in one smooth thrust.<br/><br/>And <em>oh</em>—<br/><br/>Gods.<br/><br/>Heat, tight and wet and perfect, clenching arrhythmically around his dick. He’s so <em>hot</em>, Noctis feels like he’s burning up in the fires of Ravatogh, and it’s only when he’s halfway in that he becomes dimly aware that he’s groaning—that Ignis is too, long and low and deep like he’s being gutted. And he <em>tries</em> to hold back, to give Ignis time to adjust, but it all feels so dizzyingly <em>good</em>, and Ignis doesn’t seem to want him to slow down anyways. His fingers dig relentlessly into Noctis’s ass, egging him on, and with a helpless grunt, Noctis lets himself go, sinking the rest of the way in with one final, convulsive push.<br/><br/>“Astrals,” Ignis gasps as Noctis bottoms out. His head thumps back into the pillows. Noctis follows his lead and slumps over him, trembling.<br/><br/>“Yeah,” he just about manages as he mouths deliriously at the pale, vulnerable skin of Ignis’s jaw and throat. He’s barely cognizant of anything but the join of their bodies, the heat and clench of Ignis’s ass around him. Gods, he thinks hazily, he could probably come just like this, buried in the hot furnace of Ignis’s body, no friction needed. Maybe he should’ve used the condom after all. But then he wouldn’t be able to come inside Ignis’s ass, and at <em>that</em> thought, his dick gives an alarming twitch.<br/><br/>Fuck.<br/><br/>Noctis grits his teeth and, with a massive effort, pulls himself together. He drags his attention back to Ignis, who’s lying beneath him, chest heaving as he takes in great, gulping breaths. His hair’s a total mess against the pillow, and his eyes are shut. There’s a flush crawling down from his cheeks to his chest, and gods, he’s absolutely <em>gorgeous</em> like this, all blissed out. Noctis swallows.<br/><br/>“You doin’ all right?”<br/><br/>Ignis’s throat works, and his lips part, the pale pink of his tongue showing through. “Yes,” he breathes, eyes still closed, like he’s savoring the sensation of Noctis’s dick inside him. “I’d forgotten how this—” And then he shifts, hitching one leg higher on Noctis’s hip. The movement opens him up even further, and Noctis—he can’t help himself. His hips jerk forward in a shallow thrust, plunging him in deeper, and Ignis breaks off in a guttural groan.<br/><br/>“You’d forgotten how…?” Noctis grinds out. He slips out a little bit further. He should wait, he knows, get himself under control so he can make this last, but every fiber of his being is screaming for more, and Ignis—Ignis is—<br/><br/>Ignis isn’t even listening to him anymore, instead moaning loudly as Noctis rocks into him again, his mouth falling open. It’s the hottest sight <em>and</em> sound Noctis has ever encountered in his life, so he does it again, drawing almost all the way out this time, before driving back in, letting Ignis feel the full length of his dick, and—<br/><br/>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Ignis says, voice rising, heedless of the volume. The uncharacteristic curse brings Noctis up short, but then there are fingers scrabbling at his back, and Ignis is pleading, “Don’t stop, Noct, don’t—” and that’s when Noctis says goodbye to the last shreds of his self-control.<br/><br/>Someone more experienced or disciplined maybe could’ve drawn this out, denied Ignis and <em>really</em> made him beg. But Noctis is a far cry from both, and, more importantly, he doesn’t want to deny Ignis anything, not when they’re both so damn desperate for this. His next wild thrust makes the bed squeak and forces out an explosive gasp from Ignis’s lips. The one after that shakes the bedpost and earns him a ragged groan, and after that, everything becomes a blur of sensation: the hot, slick friction of Ignis’s ass around his dick; his escalating moans, half-muffled by Noctis’s frantic kisses; fingernails raking down his back; and the loosening pressure of Ignis’s legs around Noctis’s waist as Ignis opens up around him, spreads his thighs wider, asking—no, <em>begging</em> for more. Not one to turn down an invitation like that, Noctis draws back for an easier angle, filling the room with the obscene slap of skin against skin as he picks up the pace, pounding into him hard enough that his balls are smacking against Ignis’s ass with every thrust.<br/><br/>“Oh gods, Six, <em>yes</em>, Noct, harder, <em>harde—ah</em>—”<br/><br/>It’s like watching a porno, except way better, because it’s <em>Ignis</em>, shameless and unrestrained and writhing on Noctis’s dick like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. Tears are leaking from the corners of his eyes, and he’s sobbing and swearing at every snap of Noctis’s hips. And Noctis is babbling right back at him, he knows. Nonsense like, “Gods, Specs, you feel so good,” and “Fuck, Ig<em>nis</em>, you’re so hot,” and (embarrassingly) “How’s that? Do you like that?” At one point, he swings one of Ignis’s legs over his shoulder so he can plunge in just that much deeper, and oh hell, Ignis is flexible—<br/><br/>The angle must be amazing, because Ignis jerks and practically shouts beneath him, eyes shooting open. They’re unfocused, dazed, totally bereft of their usual sharpness, and something about that hazy expression makes Noctis drunk with fierce pride.<br/><br/>He’s done that to Ignis. He’s made Ignis feel so good he’s forgotten himself. <em>Him</em>.<br/><br/>The knowledge makes his balls tighten in warning, but he clenches his jaw and keeps on going, pounding Ignis into the mattress, aiming for that spot again and again. At each stroke, Ignis cries out, back arching, baring his throat. All his muscles are shaking now, his skin slick and glistening with sweat. His hands scrabble at Noctis’s ass again, yanking him closer, deeper.<br/><br/>“Six, yes, righ—<em>ah</em>, right there, yes, oh gods, Noct, <em>Noct</em>—” His eyes squeeze shut in pleasure.<br/><br/>“Eyes on me,” Noctis gasps, trying desperately to hold back. He’s close, but he wants to see Ignis come—<br/><br/>And Ignis, shit, obeys him, opens his eyes and looks straight at him. “Noct,” he pants, then moans as Noctis gets a hand around his dick. He manages to fumble out two, three clumsy strokes, and then Ignis is throwing his head back, heels digging against Noctis’s back as he seizes up and spills helplessly all over his stomach with a wordless cry.<br/><br/>It doesn’t take long for Noctis to follow him after that. He’s so close that the mere sight and sound of Ignis finishing is more than enough to tip him over the edge. As Ignis clenches around him, Noctis’s hips stutter forward uncontrollably in sharp, erratic thrusts, struggling to get deeper, to get closer, and oh gods, he’s almost there, almost—yeah, right—right <em>there</em>, fuck, Ignis—<br/><br/>His mind goes blank with shock and pleasure as his orgasm tears through him, leaving him limp and breathless. He doesn’t know if he shouts, but his ears are ringing like bells in the distance, and for a second, his vision wavers—and then the world’s tilting, and he’s falling, doubling over and collapsing, gasping, “Fuck, Ignis, <em>fuck</em>,” as fingers card through his hair and a mouth presses against his own, murmuring his name over and over again in wonder.<br/><br/></p>
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<p><br/>The next morning, Noctis wakes to the earsplitting peal of an unfamiliar ringtone.<br/><br/>“Mrughfff,” he says, very coherently, and pulls his pillow over his ears. When that isn’t sufficient enough to drown out the hellish noise spilling from Ignis’s phone, Noctis growls and sticks his arm and head out from his nest of blankets. Fumbling for the nightstand, he mutes the damn thing.<br/><br/>Blessed silence falls. With another sleep-muddled grumble, Noctis retreats back to his warm burrow, yanking the covers over his head and squeezing his eyes shut to hide from the pale, hazy half-light of dawn spilling through the slats of his window blinds. His alarm hasn’t gone off, which means it’s definitely too early to be up. If he shuts his eyes, maybe he can catch a couple more minutes (hours?) of sleep…<br/><br/>An insistent buzz, and then several more, in quick succession. Some more alert part of Noctis’s brain identifies the sound as a flurry of incoming text messages before staunchly tuning it out. He files it firmly under <em>Ignis’s problem, not mine.</em>.<br/><br/>Though, speaking of Specs, where…? Noctis gropes out beside him, seeking a warm body. His fingers meet nothing but fabric, and for a second, disappointment rears its ugly head. Then he hears the sound of the shower running down the hall, and he lets a self-satisfied smile curl across his lips as the events of last night replay themselves behind his eyelids.<br/><br/>Job well-fucking-done. He fights back a grin as he remembers how well-fucked and wrecked Ignis had seemed afterwards, dazed and loose-limbed and pliant, so tuckered out that he hadn’t even been bothered to clean up. Noctis had had to do that for the both of them, had to drag his ass to the restroom and back to wipe them both off with a hot wet rag. That’d been nice too—Ignis letting Noctis take care of him, gazing up at him with a soft, dreamy look, lips parted, his hair all mussed up against the pillows…<br/><br/>The memory’s causing all sorts of problems down south for him, and Noctis idly entertains the fantasy of hauling himself out of bed to join Ignis in the shower before another ringtone interrupts his thoughts.<br/><br/>This one he does recognize.<br/><br/>He lets it run itself out once, but it just starts up again, as obnoxious and unrelenting as its caller. Grumbling, he rolls over and swipes his phone from the nightstand. <br/><br/>“What?” he snaps.<br/><br/>“<em>Were you even listening to me?</em>” Gladio roars. Spittle practically flies out of the receiver. “<em>What the hell did I say?</em>”<br/><br/>Noctis rubs the gritty gunk out of his eyes. “The hell’re you on about?”<br/><br/>“<em>Where’s Iggy?</em>”<br/><br/>“He’s—” Noctis glances at the open door. “He’s not here.”<br/><br/>Gladio makes an impatient sound at the other end of the line. “<em>I ain’t in the mood to play coy with you, Noct.</em>”<br/><br/>“Then <em>don’t</em>,” Noctis shoots back. But something in Gladio’s tone is making his stomach curdle, though that could also be the lack of breakfast. “What the hell's up?”<br/><br/>Gladio snorts. “<em>Don’t you mean what</em> isn’t <em>up</em>?” he says. Then, “<em>Hang on.</em>”<br/><br/>His phone pings again, and Noctis glances down at the screen. A link to—he squints—<em>The Insomniac Gossip</em>?<br/><br/>“Uh,” Noctis says. His heart sinks. “Gladio, what’s this?”<br/><br/>“<em>What’s it look like?</em>” Gladio says unhelpfully, a dark chuckle spilling outta the phone. “<em>Give it a long, hard read. And when you’re done, tell Iggy to call me back, okay?</em>”<br/><br/>Gladio hangs up without waiting for an answer. Noctis looks down at his phone again, sleep long forgotten, and stares at the link. His thumb hovers over the screen.<br/><br/>He’s still staring at it by the time Ignis returns. <br/><br/>“Noct?”<br/><br/>“Morning,” Noctis says listlessly. He glances over at Ignis, who’s standing in his doorway, bare-chested with a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair’s damp still, curling a bit at the nape of his neck, and a drop slowly winds its way down the side of his throat where an unexpected dark hickey stands out against the paleness of his skin. He looks like he’s walked straight out of one of Noctis’s wet dreams. And normally, Noctis would take the time to appreciate him, to let Ignis know how <em>much</em> he appreciates him, but…<br/><br/>Ignis seems to sense that something is off. His brow furrows. “Is something the matter?” he says, crossing the room. He seats himself on the edge of the mattress, and Noctis reluctantly hands over his phone.<br/><br/>“Gladio called. Said I should give this a read.”<br/><br/>Ignis, who possesses infinitely more poise and courage than Noctis, opens the link without hesitation. Cautiously, Noctis peers over his shoulder and reads:<br/><br/></p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em><b>Noctis Lucis Caelum GAY? HRH Heard “Noctin’ Boots” With Advisor-In-Training Ignis Scientia!</b> (1,304 reactions)</em>
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  <p>
    <em>After months of silence and denial from the royal family, we can finally put a rest to all the scintillating rumors and speculation surrounding Prince Noctis’s love life! Late last night, a source reached out to us to report some intriguing commotion he heard taking place in a neighboring apartment while visiting a friend’s condo. Consider us shocked when we learned where all that noise was coming from, if you catch our drift. (Read more.)</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Posted 16 minutes ago – by A. Skanda</em>
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</blockquote><p><br/>A mortified silence fills the room. Slowly, Ignis puts down the phone, then takes off his glasses. Noctis holds his breath.<br/><br/>“Um,” he hazards, after a few minutes.<br/><br/>“No,” Ignis says firmly. He pinches his nose bridge.<br/><br/>“It’s not—”<br/><br/>“Not. A. Word.”<br/><br/>“Right. Got it, loud and clear.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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